The Window
by Thepopcornpup
Summary: "Crutchie glared at the window. It was locked tight, and the glass was cracked and scratched in certain places. It was bordered by wooden frame that looked as if it had been eaten away by termites. It was only a few feet away. But, Crutchie couldn't make it." (My take on the scene where Jack visits Crutchie in the Refuge) (One-Shot)
**Author's Note: Hey there!** **This story was originally published in a collection of one-shots, but I decided that I preferred to publish my one-shots s** **eparately. :)**

 **I hope you enjoy it! As per usual, prompts are very welcome, and reviews are highly appreciated! Thanks so much for reading! Enjoy!**

* * *

Crutchie glared at the window. It was locked tight, and the glass was cracked and scratched in certain places. It was bordered by wooden frame that looked as if it had been eaten away by termites. It was only a few feet away.

But, Crutchie couldn't make it.

He hated it. Just staring at that window. It was so close. But, if he tried to walk over there, every muscle in his body burned like the sunsets in Jack's paintings. Just standing up made him feel like he was going to fall right over.

Not only did he hate that, but he hated the way people treated him because of it. He heard the way the other boys whispered. "Poor crip can't even stand." He saw the way people looked at him. Some with pity, some with sneers. It all made him feel helpless. Crutchie hated feeling helpless.

But, what he hated most of all was how he'd felt when Jack came.

Crutchie heard a tap on the window, and he had to look twice when he saw the familiar face. "Jack!" He'd whispered, his sideways smile lighting up his bruised face.

Jack had to smirk back, despite himself. That smile was contagious. "Hey kid," He responded, his voice muffled by the window.

"What're ya doin' here?" Crutchie whispered, suddenly realizing the danger Jack had put himself in.

Jack pointed to his ear, and Crutchie realized that Jack couldn't hear him. Jack motioned for him to come to the window and open it.

Crutchie nodded, and started to get up. He winced as soon as he moved, pain shooting through his body. But, he kept going, his face going as pale as the thin sheets on his bunk as he pushed himself up.

Jack pounded on the window, shaking his head. "Crutchie, stop!" He whispered urgently, but Crutchie either didn't hear him or didn't care. Jack shook his head and muttered a few curses under his breath as he tried to wrench the locked window open. Luckily for him, the old lock on the window was already threatening to fall off any day, so with enough force, he was able to push the window open. "Crutchie, stop,"Jack repeated, sticking his head through the window. "You're gonna hurt yourself. I'll come to you."

"No!" Crutchie hissed, gripping the bed frame for dear life. "They'll...they'll c-catch you, Jack. Ya...ya can't come in here!"

"Look at yourself, Crutch," Jack sighed, putting his hand to his forehead. "You can barely breath. Sit down."

"I-I can make it...t' the window," Crutchie insisted through labored breaths, reaching for his crutch. "I...I made it last night." He chose not to mention that they'd beat him again since then.

Jack watched his best friend, his head swirling. This is the kind of stuff he saw in his nightmares. He wanted to bolt away and pretend that he'd never seen Crutchie in this condition, that Crutchie hadn't ever been taken to the Refuge, that all of this was just another nightmare, and he'd wake up on the rooftop with a perfectly healthy Crutchie by his side. But, he couldn't leave his brother like this. "Stop, Crutchie!" He demanded. "Or, I'm comin' in an' I'm makin' you sit."

Crutchie let out a long, defeated breath. He practically fell onto his bed and whimpered, "I made it last night, Jack. I swear, I really did."

"I believe you, kid," Jack assured him. "You don't got anythin' to prove to me. I knows how strong you are."

Crutchie simpered. Then, he looked up at Jack and took in the big black eye he had. "That's some shiner," Crutchie said, frowning. "You don't look so good, Jack."

Jack scoffed. "You're sayin' that to me? Have you seen yourself, Crutch?"

Crutchie motioned to his own black eye and joked, "What, these little scratches?" He chuckled weakly.

Jack didn't laugh. He just sighed. "I'm sorry, Crutchie," He whispered, closing his eyes. "I'm so, so sorry. Why'd I run away? Like a coward!"

"You ain't a coward, Jack," Crutchie replied. "The Delancey's were just too fast."

Jack shook his head. "I coulda gotten you, though. If I hadn't been so damn scared of Snyder, you wouldn't be in this hellhole!" He opened his eyes and asked, "How've they been treatin' ya here so far? The other boys don't mess with ya, do they? And, the Delancey's, they haven't dared to lay another finger on you, right? I swear, if they do anythin' else to you, I'll soak the daylights outta them!"

"Jack, it's fine!" Crutchie whispered forcefully, putting his hands up in a "stop" motion to quiet down Jack, who was almost shouting at this point. "I'se fine. You'se gotta go, though, Jack. Snyder'll kill ya if he sees you here!"

"You didn't answer my question, Crutchie," Jack said gravely. "How've they been treatin' ya?"

Crutchie looked at his feet and remained silent.

Jack's face softened with worry. "Crutchie?"

Crutchie gave Jack a sideways glance. "I'll be fine." He mumbled. When Jack didn't respond, seemingly waiting for him to elaborate, Crutchie looked at his older brother again,offered a very small smile and added, "Good as new."

Crutchie froze suddenly, his muscles stiffening with a jolt. "Jack, you gotta go." He whispered, still frozen.

Jack's heart seemed to fall to the bottom of his stomach. "No, Crutch, I can't-"

"You have to." Crutchie interrupted urgently. "I can hear him comin', Jack." His voice wavered on the last word, making Jack's heart break even more.

"Well-well, you gotta come with me!" Jack stammered, holding his hand out for Crutchie. "I can't leave you trapped in here!"

"I can't!" Crutchie replied, but he still tried to get up.

Jack held out his hands as Crutchie tried to stand again. "No! I-" He glanced at the door that Snyder would be coming through any second now. "I-"

"Sit down, Gimp!" Someone from inside shouted to Crutchie. "You're gonna get us all in trouble, ya dumb crip!"

This made Jack's blood boil.

Crutchie sat down and looked at Jack apologetically. He smiled shakily and whispered, "Don't worry about me. Go win the strike, Jack."

Jack grimaced. He couldn't tell Crutchie that he'd basically already abandoned the strike.

The door handle clicked.

Crutchie gasped and stiffened again, his smile disappearing. He turned toward the door and, out of the corner of his mouth, said to Jack, "Get outta here."

Jack whirled around and stood with his back against the brick wall of the Refuge, breathing heavily. He could hear Snyder's shouting clearly from the inside. It felt like an old wound had just been painfully ripped open again, stinging stronger than it had the first time. Jack bit his lip as he heard familiar words shoot from the Spider's mouth, words that hurt almost as bad as the beatings themselves.

Crutchie sat ridgid, not daring to look away from Snyder. The window was still open. If Snyder noticed, Jack would be done for. But, what could Crutchie do?

"You." Snyder suddenly said, pointing at Crutchie. "I hope you've thought about what happened this morning."

"Yes sir." Crutchie responded, trying to keep all fear out of his voice.

"I'm coming back for you in five minutes, Crip," The warden sneered. "And, this time, I want answers."

Crutchie nodded curtly.

"You'd be a downright fool not to answer to me now, boy," Snyder added.

Crutchie took a deep breath and muttered, "People have been callin' me a fool my whole life, Mister. That's never stopped me from bein' one."

A thick silence filled the room. Everyone held their breath as Snyder glared at Crutchie. After a good minute, the Refuge warden left the room, saying nothing more than, "Five minutes, Gimp."

The door slammed. Crutchie sighed, feeling the little energy he'd had drain from his body.

Jack appeared at the window again. "Crutchie."

Cructhie looked over at him, shocked. "Jack. Were-were you there the whole time?"

Jack responded with another question. "What happened this morning? What'd he do to you?"

"Never mind that!" Crutchie replied in a hushed voice. "You can't be here, Jack." He turned around and pulled outvan envelope from underneath his sheet. He stretched his arm out towards Jack, envelope in hand. "Take this and go."

Jack shook his head. "Crutchie, I can still get ya out-"

"Snyder's comin' for me any minute, Jack," Crutchie cut him off, sounding on the verge of tears. "He'd catch you."

Jack's head ached with the thoughts of what Snyder could do to his brother. Crutchie could barely stand at this point. How bad would he be after Snyder got a hold of him? Jack felt as if he were going to throw up just thinking about it. "But-"

Crutchie inched towards Jack. "Take this," He insisted, shoving the letter towards him. "And go win the strike. For me."

Jack faltered, then slowly leaned in the window and took the letter from his hand. "Crutchie..." He whispered.

Crutchie's sideways smile appeared. "Go get 'em, Cowboy."

The doorknob clicked again, and in an instant, Jack was gone.

Crutchie felt a lot of things after that meeting. Pain. Lots of pain. Thanks to Snyder, and Crutchie's own refusal to disclose Jack's location and the Newsies' plans for the strike, there was a great deal of pain in those next few days.

Then, there was shame. He was ashamed that he couldn't get out with Jack. He couldn't even make it to the window.

He was also angry that he couldn't make it. And sad.

More than sad. He was miserable.

And all of these feelings seemed to combine into one, growing pit in his bruised stomach as he glared at that damn window. The window glared back, now boasting a padlock after Snyder had discovered the old lock had been broken.

Crutchie shook his head as he took in the window. The scratched glass, the wooden frame, the window pane that had the name "Jack Kelly" scratched into the wood. (It also had the name "Francis Sullivan" scratched in, but that name was almost indecipherable as whoever had written had crossed it out multiple times.)

Then, Crutchie took in a deep, determined breath. He pushed himself off of his cot in slow motion, clearing his head and concentrating on each movement. He focused all his energy on one meek footstep, then another, all done as he gripped the bed frame so hard that his knuckles turned a ghostly white. His legs shook, and his breaths came out shallow and weak. Still, he kept going.

With one of his white-knuckled hands, he reached, almost blindly, for his crutch that was leaning against the wall. The crutch still had torn bits of the "Strike!" banner he'd made a few days ago. Had that really only been a few days ago?

He grabbed the crutch and shoved it under his arm, feeling a smile play on his lips as he did so.

"What's the crip doin'?" Someone asked.

"He's got a name, ya know," One of the younger boys responded, crossing his arms. He turned to face Crutchie and asked, "What're ya doin', Crutchie?"

Taking another step forward, Crutchie simply replied, "Window."

"Hey, kid, you shouldn't be walkin' around like that after the way Snyder's been soakin' ya," Another boy, who reminded Crutchie painfully of Jack, advised.

Crutchie shook his head, taking another gentle step towards the window. "I-I'se almost th-there," He stuttered, his hoarse voice hopeful.

The Jack-like boy glanced at the others and back at Crutchie. Then, he took a few cautious steps towards him, ready to catch him if he fell.

Crutchie put his good foot in front of his bad foot, then his bad foot in front of his good food, each step falling in sync with each frail breath he took. He felt light-headed, but he pushed through.

He looked up, and saw just how close the window was. This was the furthest he'd made it in days.

The whole room seemed to hold their breath as Crutchie quietly counted his steps.

"One..." He whispered.

He lifted his crutch and pushed himself forward on hit.

"Two..."

He put his good leg forward.

"Three."

Crutchie stopped, immeadietly leaning over on the window sill for support. He caught his breath, and every boy watched him, wondering if he was going to pass out, since he sure looked like it.

But, he looked up at them, and that sideways grin spread across his face like butter. "I did it..." He breathed with a chuckle. "I did it!"

He glanced out the window, smiling broadly. Looking in the direction of the Lodging House, he laughed softly. "I'll be outta here soon, Cowboy. Trust me."


End file.
